CHAPTER 5 GRETA
GRETA
Damn it, he’s done it again.
Iron Jack’s shoulder presses into my belly as he hauls me into a spartan room with white walls, a bare mattress, and a dresser.
“Put me down!” I say, kicking my legs, hoping one of Marietta’s heavy boots will do more damage than the chair in Diesel’s fake fight.
The dresser is tall, probably chest-height for me, and Iron Jack plunks me on it like he did at the bar.
I’m trapped again, and this time I don’t have my stilettos as weapons, or a crowd to witness whatever might happen.
What was I thinking, coming here?
Oh, wait, I was carried out of the bar the same way I was brought into the room.
I shove at his shoulders. “You can’t get a woman except through brute strength, can you?”
Iron Jack chuckles, running a finger across the stubble over his upper lip. “I’m probably a fighter, not a lover.”
Damn it, he’s funny. I want to peg him as an uneducated, lowbrow outlaw, but he’s not like that at all when he talks.
He’s a study in opposites. He can be charming and infuriating. Funny and fierce. But I still picture him pinning a man on the floor, so I’m not sure which version of him is the real Iron Jack, the thoughtful one or the Neanderthal.
Maybe it’s both.
He presses his hands against the edge of the dresser on either side of me, leaning in. I’m up high enough that my head is above his, but I doubt that would save me if he dragged me into another kiss.
Which has me looking at his mouth.
I should not do that.
His eyes take in the direction of my gaze, and he smirks. “I’m thinking about it, too.”
“About murdering you in your sleep?” I venture.
This gets a more full-throated laugh. “I like you.”
I blow out a gust of air strong enough that it shifts that tantalizingly long hair of his. “It looks like you’ve brought me to a prison cell.” I gesture to the naked mattress on its metal frame.
“You’re welcome to sleep in my bed.”
“No, thank you. I’ll risk the bed bugs.”
He steps away and opens the door. “House mouse?” he shouts. “We need bedding in here.”
I consider hopping down while he’s away from me, but instead, I draw my feet up and sit cross-legged, my back against the wall. I feel less vulnerable this way.
It’s less than two minutes before a young woman rushes in, arms full of sheets and a pillow. They are black satin, like the ones in his room. Interesting.
The young woman is Cuban, short and slight, with glossy black hair. Her arms blur in a pink sweatshirt as she makes quick work of spreading sheets and a blanket on the bed.
I consider hopping down to help her, but Iron Jack has resumed his place in front of me. I want to keep my safe position.
When she’s done, she turns to Iron Jack. “Anything else?” She carefully avoids looking my way. There’s the slightest hint of disdain.
I sit up tall when I realize she thinks I’m one of those room-hopping bunnies.
“I’m not having sex with him,” I declare. “I’m a spy.”
This gets her. Her wide, startled eyes go from me to Iron Jack.
“Okay, then,” Iron Jack says. “I guess I better introduce you. Christina, this is Greta. She’s Merrick’s sister.”
“Ooooh,” Christina says. She stands straighter. “We love Merrick.”
Interesting. That’s what Carol said.
Christina turns to Iron Jack. “Is she spying on her brother?”
Iron Jack leans against the dresser next to me, close enough that his burly arm brushes my leg. “Merrick’s family thinks he’s into some bad shit, and Greta is here to tattle to his family.”
“Well, that’s a shitty thing to do,” Christina says.
“Naw, she just cares about him,” Iron Jack says. “I’m down for letting her see the operations and report that we’re all right.”
“Okay.” Her gaze flits to me again. “So, should we treat her like an ol’ lady?”
Iron Jack grips my waist and drags me to his side. “Or maybe a bunny.”
I push away from him. “I am not your bunny!”
He laughs. “Show her the girls’ bathroom. I think we have toothbrushes and stuff like that?”
Christina nods. “In the bunny stash, sure.”
Iron Jack lifts me by the waist and sets me down. “I’ll leave you alone. Ask all your questions of Christina. She used to date a member of the Kin.”
That gets my attention. “Really? The rivals?”
Christina’s face screws up in disgust. “Yeah. They were awful.”
“She’s loyal Wild Hair now,” Iron Jack says. “She can tell you the difference between us and the one percenters.”
“One percenters?” I ask. I’ll never get all the lingo down. I need a notebook.
“The illegal clubs,” he says. “The actual bad guys.”
“Come on,” Christina says. “I’ll fill you in.”
“Go on, then,” Iron Jack says. “Christina, put in a good word for me. This one is immune to my charms.”
Is that what he thinks? I can barely keep up.
“Is she?” Christina glances back at him. “I didn’t know you had any charm to start with.”
Was that an insult? I whip my head around to see how Iron Jack will take it. I got the impression from Marietta that everyone obeyed him completely.
But he smiles as he shakes his head. “You probably have that right.”
I do not understand the pecking order, or the subtext.
I guess that’s why I’m here.
“Let me show you the bathroom,” Christina says, heading for the door.
This is a completely different impression than I got when she scurried in to make the bed. If she’s comfortable enough with Iron Jack to make a joke at his expense, then I was the one who made her act like she did when she came in.
I don’t get it. But I’m definitely going to ask.
When we’re far enough down the hall that Iron Jack can’t hear us anymore, I say, “I don’t have a good sense of how people feel about Iron Jack. They all obey him completely, but then they also joke around with him.”
Christina takes us into the kitchen and out the other side. “That’s how he is. Laid back when things are casual. But when shit goes down, he expects unquestioning loyalty and obedience.”
“So a benevolent dictator?”
“I don’t like that word,” she says. “But Iron Jack cares about us. In return, we follow his vision, always.”
“So your friendly neighborhood outlaw?”
She shrugs as we enter a short hall. “Iron Jack is just Iron Jack.”
Christina opens a door to reveal a large bathroom with a long counter, a bathtub and shower combo, and tons of cabinets. “This is the house mouse bathroom. It’s away from the others because the men of the club aren’t allowed to be near us when we’re alone. This is our private space.”
“I don’t think I understand the role of the house mouse.”
“We don’t belong to anybody, but we’re protected by the club.
We have a job and food and shelter. We can choose to hook up with a club member, but then we have to move to their room.
The house mouse bunks are not for men. Iron Jack is fairly tolerant of letting a house mouse figure things out.
Marietta had time to choose your brother.
And right now, the other house mouse, Jami, is considering the prospect, Adam. Here is where we live.”
She opens another door. Inside is a large room lined with bunks. “Since Marietta moved to Merrick’s house, it’s just me and Jami here. But the way it’s going with the prospect, it will probably only be me soon.”
“There’s room for so many.”
“Yeah, the club was a lot bigger in the nineties. Now everybody wants to be a bunny on the weekends.”
“Women come out here to hop on a biker?”
Christina shrugs. “It’s danger that you can play with only when you want. For an ol’ lady or a house mouse, it’s your life.”
“And you chose to be here?”
“The Wild Hair saved me from the Kin. I like it here. It’s a good club.”
“Huh.” I step aside as Christina heads to the small bathroom. “Why didn’t Iron Jack put me in the bunk room?”
“He wants you for himself.”
I stand in the door. “How do you know that?”
She straightens the towels on the bar. “Iron Jack doesn’t like anybody. He’ll bang a bunny now and then, but they aren’t allowed to be near him otherwise. He keeps women at a distance, even though as president he’s under pressure to take on an ol’ lady.”
“He is? Why?” I wish I had a notebook!
Christina opens a cabinet and pulls a fresh hand towel out to replace the one by the sink. “The ol’ lady has an important role. She takes care of the families, the kids, the mothers, the women, the house. Without one, the heart of the club is missing.”
Interesting. “And Iron Jack hasn’t considered getting one?” I frown at my own wording. It sounds like something you pick up at Trader Joe’s.
“Not even for a second. He’s become notorious about it.”
So there is something wounded beneath that muscled chest. “And how long has he been back?”
“Three years now.” She drops the old hand towel into a tall hamper by the shower.
Three years. “And you think I’m different somehow.”
“I think he’s acting real out of character around you. He’s treating you like a queen. I don’t think anybody in the club has ever seen it. You can expect there will be talk. Maybe even some hope.”
“Hope?”
“Sure. That he’ll find an ol’ lady and we’ll have some stability in how the clubhouse is run. If not you, maybe you’ll make him see he needs to consider looking around.”
This is an unexpected turn.
“Is anybody else trying?”
She laughs. “Only half of rural Miami.”
I follow her back to my room, almost disappointed to discover that Iron Jack isn’t there anymore.